


Ne Me Quitte Pas

by bookspazz



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Fluff, Holidays, M/M, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-22 10:07:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/911956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookspazz/pseuds/bookspazz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's NOT Thanksgiving Day again here in Night Vale and what better way to celebrate than around a table full of strange delicacies, surrounded by people you kind of know but not really and being pointedly not thankful for anything (not even your Perfect Carlos or similarly lovely Voice of Night Vale). As the Sheriff's Secret Police always says 'Comfortable is Disposable!'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ne Me Quitte Pas

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's not the season at all but I think I just wanted everyone at Old Woman Josie's. Shameless fluff.

Remember, listeners, tomorrow is government sponsored NOT Thanksgiving Day. This holiday (or unholiday) should not be confused with actual Thanksgiving which has been banned by the Sheriff's Secret Police because it supports the illegal practice of being thankful for things not distributed by the government. On NOT Thanksgiving Day, which happens to fall on the same day as its banned counterpart, we spend our meal with everyone who isn’t family and pointedly do not feel thankful for anything at all. After all, we have the other 364 days of the year to be thankful for our beautiful desert, our fascinating sunsets, and the black helicopters in the sky that keep us all safe. NOT Thanksgiving traditions include the tense silence of unspoken small talk around a table full of classic delicacies like pickled gummy bears, marshmallow pecan pie and Roast Beasties, all of which are now available at the recently installed Monster’s Emporium for the low low price of  your first born child!  
  
Listeners, I love this time of year. The fall colors of the desert; red, gold, and peculiarly magenta; always make me feel warm and fuzzy on the inside as if I’ve accidentally swallowed a colony of fire ants. There is nothing better than spending a day eating with strangers, vague acquaintances, and others on the Secret Police approved “List of People You Know”. I don’t know about your plans but I will be spending the meal at Old Woman Josie’s. She claims that the Angels cook Roast Beasties that would rival that of the Man Who Walks By My House on Wednesday Evenings. We’ll just have to see about that. And my darling Carlos will also be in attendance! This is his first NOT Thanksgiving celebration here in Night Vale and I want to be sure that he is appropriately comfortable (not too comfortable, probably slightly uncomfortable and apprehensive as is NOT Thanksgiving tradition). Oh I just cannot wait for tomorrow! I hope your NOT Thanksgiving Day is looking to be as great as mine!

 

Carlos arrived at Old Woman Josie’s early with an apple pie he found in his refrigerator this morning. It was definitely not there the night before. For one thing, it had a slimy greenish tinge which Carlos hoped was just the type of apple.

One of the Angels opened the door. Carlos tried not to be too breathless in its presence (which is hard because there is significantly less air to be had in the presence of Angels). Erika took the pie and wordlessly ushered him through the door to the hallway where he was greeted by the small form of Old Woman Josie gripping him tightly around the waist (her head only reached his chest).

“Lovely that you could make it, dear.” She said, taking one step back and grabbing both Carlos’ hands. She had a tight grip and he could feel the pressure of her thumbs in his palms releasing tension from his body.  
  
“That could be dangerous.” Carlos thought as he took off his fall lab coat (green with warm pockets) and hung it on one of the bird beaks that lined the entry hall. He followed Josie’s large black bun into the living room which had opal walls (they shimmered delicately whenever an Angel moved) and an Unexpected Carpet (the most popular item in the Everyday FurnitureCatalogue, available for free outside Big Rico’s).  
  
“You can sit here and wait with Erika. Erika and I will be finishing the cooking in the kitchen. Do make yourself comfortable. But not too comfortable of course. In the spirit of the season.” She smiled into her small eyes that crinkled gently like tissue paper behind her glasses. Carlos noticed that her eyes matched the color of Erika’s wings.

  
Carlos seated himself in the least squishy seat he could find. He had trouble trying not to stare at the way the angel’s hair wriggled because whenever he looked anywhere else his gaze always happened to land on one of the many wide and brilliant eyes that peppered the Erika’s body. In the end, Carlos ended up staring at his shoes.

  
Before too long, more guests began to arrive. There was John Peters, you know, the Farmer, the newest radio intern Malika, three or four people Carlos didn’t know and had definitely never seen before ever in his life and, in an exceptional turn of events, Telly the Barber, who looked remarkably put together and calm (though he muttered ominously to himself whenever he caught sight of Carlos).

  
By this time the whole house smelled. It smelled of…well it smelled. It might actually have been smelling them with unseen architectural nasal passages though Carlos couldn’t be sure. Old Woman Josie pushed her small self into the living room which appeared to have doubled in size to accommodate all the guests and invited them all to the dining room.

  
Cecil hadn’t arrived yet. Carlos tried not to panic. After all, there could be a dozen harmless explanations for why Cecil was late. Not, of course, in Night Vale but just because they weren’t harmless didn’t mean they were fatal. Probably. Cecil would be fine and he would come soon (it wasn’t like him to be late especially when meeting Carlos). And Carlos could manage fine on his own. The people seemed nice enough and only some of them had extra eyes. And the angels were definitely nice. Nice in a terrifying way, maybe, but nice all the same. Carlos had lived in Night Vale for more than a year now and he would be fine and Cecil would be fine and everything would be just-

  
At precisely that moment the door knocked, rang, and burst open all at the same time. Cecil stumbled through the threshold holding a vague tin foil covered platter and looking sheepish. Carlos resisted the urge to run over to him and bury his face in Cecil’s stupid sweater-vest. Which was a stupidly dramatic reaction for someone who was just a little bit late. It wasn’t as if Carlos couldn’t have phoned if he was really worried or done something reasonable like that. He kicked himself mentally and grinned in relief at Cecil who said “I’m sorry I’m late but there were fireballs floating aimlessly across the highway and I had to swerve onto a detour. It kept the casserole warm though!”

  
Josie waved dismissively in Cecil’s direction and shepherded her guests into the dining room. Cecil, Carlos, and an Erika brought up the rear of the group. Carlos gently pressed his shoulder against Cecil’s and squeezed his hand briefly.

  
“It’s good to see you.” Carlos said.

  
Cecil grinned. “Good to see you too! But not in such a way that I would be thankful for it.” Carlos just closed his eyes and smiled. “Oh umm we won’t be able to sit together. I mean I want to but we can’t you know. ‘Comfortable is Disposable’ and everything. And I don’t want to relive NOT Thanksgiving of 2001. That was a nightmare. I mean quite literally a massive dream in all of Night Vale’s consciousness simultaneously.”

  
“But sitting across from you is fine?” Carlos offered.

  
“Yes! Yes that’s perfect!” Cecil’s cinereal face lit up (Carlos could see his cheeks glowing like a night light) and he smiled a slightly sharp smile. It was impressive that in only a year Carlos could have changed so much that he found a pair of fangs endearing (cute, not very big fangs. Only slightly pointed really. But very friendly).

The meal went on without incident but for one small accident involving a slightly uncooked herring and a hexed candle. The conversation was awkward and involved occasional silences that slithered around the room for a minute or two. Carlos tried not to look pained but it didn’t seem to matter because the rest of the room had definitely mastered the “uncomfortable dinner party” look, all except the angels whose expressions were unreadable and magnificent at all times. Cecil appeared to notice Carlos’ fear of the slithering silence because upon one occasion he reached under the table with his foot and gently touched Carlos’ leg. Carlos blushed and relaxed.

 

  
Most of what was on Carlos’ plate seemed edible and in all honesty none of it was too bad. The pickles were definitely haunted though and he couldn’t seem to be able to pick up the mashed potatoes with his fork because every time he planted his utensils where he thought they were, they had mysteriously moved to somewhere else on his plate.  
At the end of the meal, Old Woman Josie made a toast which involved a low chanting that rose into a high pitched screeching wail and then down to a whisper after which it faded. This was met with much approving applause and some celebratory food throwing. A marshmallow hit an angel in the eye but the eye only flamed for a few minutes afterward so it turned out okay in the end.

This signaled the end of the meal. Chairs were tucked in and dishes brought to the kitchen where the angels took them, stared at them until they were properly sterilized, then stowed them in the proper cabinets and compartments all around the kitchen in a seemingly random but very precise order.

  
Most of the guests left at this point in time, thanked the host with a gift of whatever was in their pockets and headed backwards out the door. After they had left, the only guests left were the angels, Carlos and Cecil, and Telly the Barber. Telly found a corner of the living room and began to weep with his back to the rest of the company. One of the angels stretched out and started watching television. Josie just nodded to Cecil who seemed to know what that meant. Then she went back to knitting with her five foot long very sharp metal needles that may have been miniature samurai swords.

  
Cecil grabbed Carlos’ hand and took him through a door on the opposite side of the house which led out to the back porch. Josie’s back porch had a porch swing, a tree growing out of it, and a stunning view of the desert. Carlos breathed out and just closed his eyes. The combination of sun, sand, and ever changing sunset colors was too much for him today.

  
Cecil coaxed him onto the porch swing and wordlessly tucked Carlos beneath his arm. Cecil’s body was always a strange combination of temperatures, warm sometimes in some place and almost freezing in others (his feet were particularly prone to cold which made for uncomfortable encounters under the sheets). But today his chest was comfortably toasty and the sun was radiating the same warmth on Carlos’ face and he expected that he might just fall asleep like this, the porch swing rocking gently every time a cool breeze passed, Cecil’s uneven heart beating just within earshot, the hum of the sunset ringing a perfect D flat.

  
“Carlos?” Cecil’s voice did not break the atmosphere but rather add another layer to that calm feeling of hovering just above a bottomless void.

  
“Hmm?” Carlos lifted his head to face Cecil, eyes still closed like a newborn kitten. Carlos could hear a strange kind of clunk coming from Cecil’s chest which had also suddenly gotten warmer.

  
“Nothing. Nevermind.” Carlos could hear the smile in Cecil’s voice and it was also on his lips when Cecil kissed him gently on the forehead. And it was still there when Carlos reached up and kissed Cecil back, on the mouth this time, eliciting a hum a third above the note of the sunset. When Carlos pulled away, Cecil groaned. He groaned in frustration and put his free hand over his eyes. Carlos panicked.

  
“What? What is it?”

  
“I forgot to fill out the Thanksgiving Denial Pledge and I left it at the station.”

  
Carlos couldn’t help himself. He laughed. He laughed long and hard into Cecil’s chest while Cecil struggled with this reaction. “Why are you laughing? I don’t understand why this is funny. Carlos? Carlos?”

  
“Stop worrying about it and kiss me again.” Carlos looked up at Cecil, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “Please?”

  
Cecil graciously obliged, pulling him close so that they both missed the sun scooting slightly to the right and then shuffling swiftly below the horizon, a rainbow of nonexistent colors trailing in its wake leaving the Night Vale sky covered in in dark black helicopters, clouds, and stars.


End file.
